Who's that Girl
by Leonhart17
Summary: *One-Shot* A new arrival in Sunnydale finds herself entranced with a girl she keeps bumping into around school...


Okay, this one has been on my harddrive for a long time but I couldn't get it how I liked it, but then my awesome friend DarkRedWillow helped me fix it! (Go read her new story - it's awesome!) Thanks friend! You're the best! Title stolen from Oz's lines when he couldn't meet Willow to save his life. Poor guy!

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><p>The Sunnydale campus was crowded, always bustling with people and noise. Even at night when things should be quiet, there was always something going on. Of course, most of the denizens of the school were unaware what went on in the night beyond hookups and parties, but she was a witch and she noticed things.<p>

It was one of the reasons that she'd chosen UC Sunnydale as her destination when she'd made her break from home, thinking that the school and its peculiar reputation might lead her to more witches, other practitioners who she could learn from.

So far she'd managed to find her dorm room and a friendly older boy to help her up the stairs with her meager belongings. Next to the piles of luggage and boxes that most of the other students had her two bags were pathetic. Some minor thought had been put into decorating right away, but the school was full to bursting on move-in day and she was determined not to be the shy, invisible wallflower she had been at home. No one here knew her, knew what she was… There was no better time to start over than now, no better place than here.

That's how she'd ended up winding her way through the press of moving people. They were everywhere, bobbing and weaving through the traffic with no thought beyond their destination. They paid no attention to a lone blonde with slumped shoulders. It was nothing she hadn't expected and she commended herself on getting out there in the first place.

A crossroads in the wide sidewalks gave her a moment's pause and she was surprised to be bumped into suddenly. No one was supposed to realize that she was present… There was already an apology on her lips, the sound dying as she looked up to meet the eyes of the person she'd bumped into. Or had the other girl bumped into her? It didn't matter at that precise moment. At that moment she couldn't even remember her own name.

She was completely entranced by the green eyes before her, sucked entirely into the emerald depths. She'd always been partial to the color blue, but she couldn't remember why when her entire world was suddenly green. She'd never seen anything so beautiful in her life as those eyes and it took a moment before she could breathe.

The other girl was distracted, but she apologized politely, a steadying hand on the blonde's shoulder sending tingles of energy shooting down her arm. By the time she could gather the wits to speak though, the girl was gone, disappearing into the crowd with her friends.

Tara couldn't help standing on her toes to get a last glimpse of the girl, one final look at red hair and those eyes that she couldn't get out of her mind.

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><p>Classes had just finished for the day, the campus covered with people leaving for the weekend, all anxious to get home. She imagined that from above it would look much like a smashed anthill with people scurrying everywhere. She was going back to her dorm herself when she noticed the first spot of stillness in the crowded din. The red hair was the first thing she spotted, the girl seated on a bench in front of Stevenson.<p>

Tara recognized her as the girl who'd so enraptured her on her first day in Sunnydale. She was much more upset than she'd been on that day, though. She'd obviously been on her way from class, but had been overwhelmed before she'd made it back to her room.

Tara hesitated on the sidewalk, debating. Her dorm was still two buildings up, but the thought of leaving the weeping redhead outside alone made something in her chest ache. But who was she to just walk up to a complete stranger and ask about her troubles? Talking to strangers had been strictly forbidden at home, her father claiming that anyone she was in contact with was in danger from her demon. As she'd grown older, she'd realized that that wasn't strictly true, but she still feared getting close to people. The instinct was too deeply engrained to be forgotten, even after months away from home.

But she could sense something about this girl with the hair like crimson and the eyes that she'd been unable to forget about. This girl was in pain, needed someone, and before she knew what she was doing, she'd taken a few steps toward her.

She was intercepted by a blonde girl that evidently knew the redhead, taking the seat beside her and pulling her into her arms. "It's going to be okay," she said, holding her friend while she cried.

"Buffy," the red-haired girl whimpered. "It's hurts so bad!"

"I know. Shh, I know," the girl named Buffy told her quietly, and Tara started edging backwards. "Come on. Let's go inside," Buffy said, coaxing her friend to her feet. Tara could only watch as Buffy led the thin redhead inside the building.

It hadn't been her, but at least the girl had had someone to reach out to when she was in pain Tara reflected as she walked back to her own dorm alone.

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><p>School had been going well, but she could feel herself reverting to the person she'd been at home, shrinking and hiding. She'd joined a campus Wicca group. At least, she'd put her name on the list. There hadn't been an actual meeting yet. But whenever they had one, she was determined to be there.<p>

For the first few weeks, the meetings were disappointing, the so-called 'witches' of the group more interested in planning events than actual magic. But it was progress for her to even interact with so many people at once, and she continued going to the meetings even after it became clear that this group wasn't going to be the helpful support she'd been searching for. She attended the group, but didn't speak, her overwhelming timidity raising its head every time.

But one time she raised her own head from a deep, meaningful contemplation of the pattern on her skirt, and she found _the_ girl. The same red hair, green eyes that could swallow her whole. But they grazed over her in the circle without a flicker, and she resisted the urge to slump and sigh. Of course someone so beautiful wouldn't notice her. The girl's presence gave her a fresh new reason to pay attention at these increasingly useless meetings, though.

In fact, the redhead, who she learned was named Willow, quickly became her only reason for continuing to visit the Wicca group. It took a few more meetings before she gathered the courage to speak up, suggest that the witch group actually study witch things and not just plan their next bake sale. Truthfully, it was Willow's suggestion, but once someone else put voice to what she'd been thinking for so long she had to speak up.

And even when it resulted in another unoriginal mocking of her stutter, it gained her the attention and notice of the redhead on the other side of the circle. Their eyes met and she felt a flush shoot from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. Willow's lips quirked in a shy smile, obviously intrigued by her, which just made her want to run and hide. People noticing her had never resulted in something good. Seeing her oddness would only lead to pain. Her father's voice in her head reminded her harshly that this was the worst possible thing she could have done. Even if the girl was as sweet as she seemed, she would never be friends with a nasty, disgusting demon.

All her father's warnings were pushed to the dim, dark place in her mind where all her memories of home and fears about her future normally resided when the campus was struck deaf in the night. Struggling to find a way to reverse the deafness, she knew that there was little she could do alone. Abruptly she remembered Willow, the redhead's insistence that the Wicca group might do spells. If Willow knew anything about magic, she could help her. There could very well be something they could do together that she wouldn't be able to do on her own.

Taking a glance around her dark room, she found the student directory and flipped through until she found Willow's room number and picked out a few books that could prove useful. Piling it all together, she took a deep breath and forced herself out into the dark. It didn't take long before she was being pursued by monsters in straightjackets, their even creepier leaders following more slowly as she ran.

No one would answer as she pounded on doors, not that she blamed them, and she wasn't looking where she was going when she pitched straight into someone and they both tumbled to the ground. She couldn't have been more surprised to see Willow beside her. She grabbed her arm without thinking and they scrambled toward the door and down the stairs, Tara curling an arm around Willow's waist to help her as she limped. The monsters were still in pursuit, and they got into the laundry room as quickly as they could. But with her ankle twisted, Willow was unable to push anything in place to block the door.

The redhead fell to the floor, one hand on her sore ankle while the other lifted. The green eyes that so fascinated Tara were intent and the blonde gaped as she noticed the heavy soda machine rocking. But it was quickly clear that Willow wouldn't be able to it on her own and Tara dropped to her knees next to the other witch, reaching over to touch her hand.

She knew life on a Hellmouth would be exciting, but she'd never been so thrilled in her life as the first touch of Willow's skin against hers. Their fingers slid together first, drawing out a soundless breath as their eyes locked and seemed to complete the circuit of exhilaration between them, cycling between their palms, up their arms and back out through their eyes. Tara could only imagine that Willow's heart was pounding in the same way hers was, the connection between them overwhelming.

Then she let her magic meet Willow's and she could have fainted from the rush of sensation. They were in horrible danger, hiding from some kind of monster, but she felt more at peace than she'd ever been in her entire life, just through a simple touch of the hand.

If they survived this, it was a feeling she wanted more of.


End file.
